


Let's Dance To The Sound Of Teenage Rebellion

by minT (justiceleague)



Series: Leather Jackets and Daddy Issues [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Jason is a Dork, M/M, jason can't be left in peace, kon is a little bit of a mess, kon picks up bad behavior from tim, or are they, references to supes' bad parenting, tim quotes vines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 18:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justiceleague/pseuds/minT
Summary: “Conner?”“Tim?”“What are you doing here?” They both ask in unison.Kon shakes his head like the dual voices are a fault in his hearing, right as Tim adds, “I came to see Jason,” like it’s suspiciously obvious and that Kon not sussing out as much means something.“I live here.” Kon reveals, like it’s no big deal.+++Or, the one where Kon and Jason become roommates, and Kon forgets to tell anyone. Sequel to 'Catch You On The Rebound.'





	Let's Dance To The Sound Of Teenage Rebellion

**Author's Note:**

> heeeyyy, back at it again at the krispey kreme! I said I was going to own this ship, and I meant it.
> 
> also if you're into them, maybe check out this [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/slytherink/playlist/5nRH4ae9VhOahygzvOSzf9?si=2vCsjno1QGamTN3XGZ5FJA) I made for the series?

Jason _really_ isn’t very good at singing.  
  
  
It doesn’t seem to stop him.  
  
  
Like, he doesn’t seem to be concerned with how bad he is _at all._  
  
  
Kon hovers at the window, eyes tracking the jerky movements of the man inside, who's mouthing along to some band Kon’s never heard, sounding distinctly out of time. He had initially come for - well, he’s not totally sure what he had come for, exactly, except _Jason_ \- but he’d gotten sidetracked by the image of a laid back, unguarded Red Hood, howling into the handle of a dulled knife like it was a reasonable microphone substitute.  
  
  
Maybe it’s an invasion of privacy, but Kon feels too enamored to really be concerned about it.  
  
  
If he didn’t want to be caught, he shouldn’t have left his blinds open, anyway.  
  
  
Or started screaming at a decibel that doesn’t require super-hearing to be heard through walls.  
  
  
Or started moving with the kind of fluid grace that both commands Kon’s full attention and divides it towards his own lower extremities.  
  
  
Yeah, Kon’s spying is entirely Jason’s fault.  
  
  
Jason spins then, flipping his jacket around him with the kind of drama he could have only learned from Bruce, and he twists to a stop, eyes landing right on the window; then he promptly drops the knife with a yelp.  
  
  
Kon falls back in a fit of snickers, unable to help himself. Jason slams the window open, scowl clouding his face.  
  
  
“The _fuck_ are you doing here, brat?” He grumbles, embarrassment painting his cheeks an alluring red.  
  
  
Kon gathers himself up to face Jason properly, inhaling deeply. He wipes a fake tear to emphasize his amusement at Jason’s expense, which only serves to darken his expression.  
  
  
“Apparently I came for the free show. Should I ask for your autograph now, or wait until fame strikes you?”  
  
  
Jason snarls a bit, but there’s no real bite to it. He grabs the lapels of Kon’s jacket and hauls him in.  
  
  
“Get in the damn window before someone sees you! I’ll probably have to abandon this place now.”  
  
  
Kon grins, unapologetic. He finds his footing on the matted carpet, and rocks back and forth a bit. “Too bad, this place is...so nice.” He says, glancing around at the sparsity and the moldy, stained walls.  
  
  
Jason rolls his eyes. “It’s the principle of the thing, especially if you’re going to make stalking me a hobby.”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Kon admits, sucking in a sigh, hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, “I probably shouldn’t, seeing as how I’m evidently not so good at it. That’s always been more Tim’s thing.”  
  
  
Kon regrets it as soon as he brings it up, souring the look on Jason’s face. He’s always had a knack for fucking up basic social etiquette, and he sometimes doesn’t think about things like _maybe don’t bring up the guy you and your sometimes booty-call have both been heart-breakingly snubbed by._ _  
_ _  
  
_ “So was there a reason you decided to creep on me this time?” Jason asks, tiredness exuding from his tone.  
  
  
Kon shrugs.  
  
  
“You know me. Bored. Nowhere to go, nothing to do.”  
  
  
“What?” Jason suggests, rolling his head to eye Kon questioningly, “No Teenie-Titans to bother? No cows to milk in good ol’ _Kansas_ ?” Jason drawls off, in a poor imitation of a mid-western accent.  
  
  
It’s Kon’s turn to flinch at the broached, touchy subject, and Jason snaps to attention.  
  
  
“Something happen?” He pries, softly, like he _cares_ .  
  
  
Maybe he does.  
  
  
“I’m nearly twenty-one now, and even though Ma Kent wouldn’t ever say so, I know my appetite is a financial burden. I left home a year ago.” He lets the confession hang there a minute, processing how to continue his timeline.  
  
  
“I moved into the Titan's tower full time for a while, but…they _are_ the Teen Titans, and I’m…well, age is funky for me, but I _feel_ a lot older than most of them, and it just seemed...I mean I still help them out when they need it, but I just figured it was _time,_ so-”  
  
  
“Hey,” Jason interrupts his story-turned-ramble. “Are you saying you _literally_ have ‘nowhere to go’ right now?”  
  
  
Kon shrugs. “I mean, nowhere that’s _mine,_ I guess...but it’s not like it’s hard for me to find unoccupied places when I need them to just chill.”  
  
  
Jason looks faintly affronted. “Isn’t your dad fucking _Superman_ ? Why’s he letting you live like this?”  
  
  
Kon wrinkles his nose. “That’s debatable, according to him. I mean it’s not like he had anything to do with making me, and even though my DNA is mixed just like everyone else’s, I’m _technically_ a non-consensually made clone, so…you know. Guess I bring some unwanted feelings and shit.”  
  
  
Kon shuffles his foot against the gray floor, feeling uncomfortable and on the spot, like he’s trying to not come off as childish in it all, suddenly aware of how of how it might sound like he’s just a kid who ran away from home, complaining about some _daddy issues,_ and -  
  
  
And Jason doesn’t look like he’s judging him. No, he looks _mad._  
  
  
“What,” He says through clenched teeth, “The _fuck._ You don’t. You don’t let your goddamn _family,_ your fucking _kid,_ go homeless! What the hell?!”  
  
  
Kon blinks, unaccustomed to the defensive nature of Jason’s outrage. “It’s, uh…it’s not like I’m on the streets or anything? Technically I’m not anyone’s responsibility, so it’s fine.” He tries to placate him.  
  
  
Jason snorts, all anger and derisiveness. “It's 'fine?' Trust me, I know what it means to be on the streets, and that doesn’t give him the _excuse._ Damn. Fucking _Superman._ You really can’t trust anybody.”  
  
  
Kon’s confusion over Jason’s seemingly personal reaction must read on his face, because Jason looks at him and shakes himself, like he’s trying to get rid of whatever emotion had overtaken him.  
  
  
“Goddamn, well, if no one else is gonna do it, I guess I should. You got a city right now? Still a Metropolis kid?”  
  
  
Kon worries his lip between his teeth. “Not really. I can fly off wherever I’m needed, so it doesn’t really matter where I am; and I’ve sorta been...hanging around Gotham, because, well...I _was_ looking after Tim, for a long while. But I haven’t really felt the need to recently, and then…well, there was _you,_ so I guess I...switched?” Kon says, uncertain and seemingly unable to kick his new habit of _not shutting the fuck up._ _  
_ _  
  
_ Jason’s eyebrows shoot up, like he hasn’t actually _noticed_  Kon trailing him on his nightly patrols, and...wow. Maybe he hadn’t? Maybe Kon actually isn’t as bad as he thinks he is at it?  
  
  
It’s probably something to do with Gotham, he decides after a split second. All those excessive shadows and Gothic fixtures hanging off buildings to hide behind.  
  
  
“Well,” Jason says after a moment, like he’s decided something. “That makes it easier, I guess.”  
  
  
“What?” Kon asks, still baffled.  
  
  
“You’re moving in with me. Got any shit?”  
  
  
Kon takes a hesitant, disbelieving scan around the room. “Uh, thanks, but I don't-”  
  
  
“Not _here_ , dumbass. I have a place in Gotham. Well, _Pete Howard_ does, anyway. It’s an apartment, not a safehouse. I keep it as a civilian.”  
  
  
Kon shoves his hands in his pockets, lip poking out in thought. “I don’t have an income. I can’t pay rent.”  
  
  
Jason scoffs. “You think I pay for my own shit? I hacked Bruce’s personal bank account.”  
  
  
Kon chokes. “You stole from _Batman?”_ _  
_  
  
Jason laughs a little, but it’s bitter.  “He probably would have just given it to me, but it’s not like I would fucking ask for it. He knows, but this works for us; I get to feel petty by pilfering from him, and he gets to feel less guilty by not stopping me. Hell, I’m probably doing him a favor.”  
  
  
Kon’s face twists a little funnily, and all he can think to say is, “Wow, your relationship is almost as fucked as mine with my dads’.”  
  
  
Jason throws his head back in a full-bodied laugh, bitterness siphoning away entirely.  
  
  
“I think we’ve already been here.” Jason observes, chuckling under his breath.  
  
  
Kon can’t help but smile back. “Yeah, well, I was drunk last time. _Remind me_ ?”  
  
  
Oh. That came out a little more suggestive than he intended. Jason perks up a little, eyes brightening and giving him the _look over_ , and yeah, he can roll with that.

* * *

  
  
And that’s how Kon finds himself pleasantly well-fucked once again, and in the sudden possession of an actual home, with a new, unexpected and downright _unlikely_ roommate.  
  
  
When things get weird, it’s usually not so nice as this, he muses; so it’s nothing to dwell on.  
  
  
And by “dwell on,” he apparently means “tell absolutely no one and act like it’s entirely normal.” Which, it _would_ be, except he forgot that friends sometimes take interest in these kinds of personal details of your life, and his best friend in particular would have a doubly vested interest in this particular turn of events; and when you don’t update people, you _make_ it not normal.  
  
  
He’s never claimed to be the most self aware person, okay?  
  
  
Which is probably why he doesn’t register Tim’s presence in the definitely well-lit living room - perched on the black pleather sofa - until he’s halfway through taking a big swig from the milk carton, fridge door hanging open behind him.  
  
  
Their eyes meet at the exact same time, and Kon lets out a garbled “huuuuuh?” in surprise - except he’s still drinking, so it causes him to choke, turning the question into a coughing fit as white liquid drips out of his nose.  
  
  
Tim, on the other hand, makes no sound; instead he tumbles off of the arm of the couch.  
  
  
By the time Kon manages to stop coughing, Tim’s poking his head over the back cushions.  
  
  
“Conner?”  
  
  
“Tim?”  
  
  
“What are _you_ doing here?” They both ask in unison.  
  
  
Kon shakes his head like the dual voices are a fault in his hearing, right as Tim adds, “I came to see Jason,” like it’s suspiciously obvious and that Kon not sussing out as much _means something._  
  
  
“I live here.” Kon reveals, like it’s no big deal.  
  
  
Tim doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move at all. “What?” He says after an awkwardly extended period of time.  
  
  
Kon doesn’t get a chance to explain himself, because Jason comes banging his way into the door, helmet under his arm, whistle in his tune, and a slight bounce in his step.  
  
  
“Hey, pretty boy, guess what _I_ fucking discovered today-” Jason halts, seeing the standoff between the two men, milk still dripping down Kon’s face, Tim still on the floor behind the couch.  
  
  
Kon grinds his teeth as Tim’s eyebrows shoot up, before mouthing “pretty boy?” at him, a strangled noise squeaking out, sounding unsure whether to break out into hysterics of the “massively thrown for a loop” type, or the pure “I need to mock my best friend immediately over this” kind.  
  
  
Jason looks at Kon, then back at Tim, then back at Kon. “No.” He says, decidedly, “You've you got this,” and saunters into the bedroom with a _bang!_ of the door behind him.  
  
  
Kon slowly swivels his head back from where the noise drew it, wary, and meets Tim’s gaze again.  
  
  
“Uh, so it’s probably not as weird as you’re thinking.” He hedges.  
  
  
“There’s one bedroom. And one bed. I’ve been here before, and nothing’s changed.” Tim deducts. “He called you ‘ _pretty boy.’”_  
  
  
“Okay, maybe it’s a little as weird as you’re thinking.” Kon relents.  
  
  
“So what, you’re dating now?” Tim asks, taking on a high-pitched note.  
  
  
“No!” Kon interjects, hastily. “No. Nothing like that. We just, well - we fuck.” He admits. “But it’s like...a friends with benefits thing, you know? And then, I dunno, you know what happened back home in Kansas and then with the Titans, and how I was kinda drifting from place to place, and Jason was just like ‘I have this place in Gotham,’ so I was like _sweet,_ and-”  
  
  
“And they were roommates,” Tim whispers, finally cracking into the edge of hysteria, voice growing louder as he launches himself over the couch, feet dangling over the back, burying a wave of manic laughter into his hands.  
  
  
“Are you okay?” Kon checks, actually concerned.  
  
  
Tim flaps a wrist at him, still giggling breathily. “Fuck, it’s just - it’s you and _Jason._ God, that’s _brilliant._ ” He explains, like it makes sense.  
  
  
“How long has it been since you slept?” Kon interrogates, squinting at him.  
  
  
“Not important.” Tim breezes past his question. “What _is_ important is how I didn’t see this coming. Some detective I am, it’s so _obvious_ in retrospect _._ ”  
  
  
“What?” Kon demands, annoyed at the echo of confusion cycling through the room.  
  
  
“You two!” Tim reiterates. “Come on, you have to see it. Leather jackets, daddy issues, punk aesthetic; your guys’ life stories might as well be a music video, both of you parallel, dancing to the sound of teenage rebellion.”  
  
  
Kon thinks that’s a touch dramatic, but Tim is very obviously running entirely on coffee right now, and he was partially raised by _the Batman_ , so he doesn’t call him out on it.  
  
  
“So, what?” He repeats instead, trying to figure out Tim’s point.  
  
  
“ _So,_ ” Tim draws out, unnecessarily, “I can’t believe I never made you hang out before. Hell, it must have been sheer happenstance you were never around each other long enough before for this to happen.”  
  
  
Kon isn’t sure what exactly he’s referring to by “this,” but he doesn’t really feel inclined to ask; not with Tim in this state.  
  
  
It’s at that point that Kon registers that it is in fact _Tim_ standing in their living room, with Jason closed off in _their_ bedroom, and that Tim is the reason they have anything that’s “theirs” at all, because he and Jason are in love with him - or had been. Is he, still?  
  
  
Because, he also realizes, in that moment  he feels no particular draw, no old familiar ache of desire, of wanting to jump Tim’s bones due to being within a few feet of him. Instead his mind flits right back to Jason, tauntingly unseen behind the white door frame, probably shedding his Hood uniform, piece by piece.  
  
  
Interesting.  
  
  
“So it’s going well?” Tim asks, like he already knows the answer.  
  
  
“Yeah,” Kon answers anyway, smile slowly spreading in place. “I think it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanna come scream with me about them (or share prompts/ideas, I always need more!) you can find me @superbat on tumblr or @jasontodds on twitter


End file.
